


Swim until you love me

by volfai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Light Angst, M/M, Skater!Jaemin, Swimming, swimmer!jeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volfai/pseuds/volfai
Summary: Learning to swim is an exercise in trust and letting go. Jaemin’s never been good at either.“Okay, jump in the water.” Jeno says, standing in water only coming up to his midriff, goggles disposed.“I’m sorry, what?”“It’s not deep. You won’t even get your head under water.” Jeno’s looking at him, expression open. Jaemin’s wearing an expression that he calls ‘excuse me, what the fuck?’
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 244
Collections: ’00 FIC FEST: ROUND ONE





	Swim until you love me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 00FF prompt #00295: Olympic Athletes! AU where Jaemin is a speed skater and Jeno is a swimmer. Jeno agreed to teach Jaemin how to swim in exchange of food, but after the sixth ‘payment’ in the form of McDonald’s delivery, Jaemin decide that he has had enough and take Jeno back to his place for a proper homemade meal.  
> I took some liberties and a whole lot more emotions got involved but I hope I did the prompt some justice :)
> 
> Title is from Swim - Alec Benjamin

It’s not that Jaemin never wanted to learn how to swim. It’s more that there was never an ocean nearby, anything life threatening that caused swimming to be a vital skill. Some kids went to swimming practice, Jaemin went to the ice rink instead. It wasn’t a dislike for (unfrozen) water, necessarily. Only 15 years later, standing at the edge of a pool, Jaemin felt a big difference between what he felt with his frozen water and this, Jeno’s domain. He was afraid, and not as the anxious knot as his stomach before a match. This was hands-shaking, quick-breathing, full-blown _fear_.

“Okay, jump in the water.” Jeno says, standing in water only coming up to his midriff, goggles disposed.

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

“It’s not deep. You won’t even get your head under water.” Jeno’s looking at him, expression open. Jaemin’s wearing an expression that he calls ‘excuse me, what the fuck?’

“Jaemin. You can’t stay off to the side forever. Especially not if you want to learn how to swim.” He knows what Jeno is saying makes sense. He’s not sure what he expected when he got here. Realistically, he knows nothing can happen. He’s been in water before, while never deep. Never with the intention of going deeper than knee deep, maybe up to his hips if it’s a particularly hot day. Never to actually swim, to be in a pool without his legs sturdily supporting him.

Never making a leap and hoping he’ll touch ground.

Jaemin knows better than to show fear or intimidation on his face, after years of competing. His eyes stay determined, his hands don’t curl into fists.

“Jaemin, come sit down with me,” Jeno says, pulling himself up on the ledge of the pool. He doesn’t look at Jaemin, doesn’t inspect Jaemin’s face closely like Jaemin’s used to, what his coach or competitors might do. He just pats the space next to him and kicks his feet around in the water, splashing. Jaemin’s glad that he’s not being looked at, giving Jaemin a moment to try to stop his hands from shaking. It doesn’t work, but he still slowly sets himself down next to Jeno, feet also dangling, thigh pressed to Jeno’s. Jeno looks at him, smiles warmly. There’s no reason for him to care this much, but he still looks so proud.

“Set the pace, okay? I’m going to go back in and I’ll stay close to you, hold you up if you feel like you’re going too deep.” Jeno means well, but Jaemin is not about to put his whole bodyweight and life in Jeno’s hands. He’ll keep his hands on the ledge, thank you very much. Still, he nods, slowly sliding his body closer to the ledge. He lifts himself up, letting his legs go deeper into the water. There’s only so much to go until he can’t go deeper while holding onto the ledge and there’s _still no floor_.

Jeno still doesn’t look at his face, focuses on Jaemin’s hands twitching, his feet stretching to try and hit ground. Jeno’s hands come up to rest on Jaemin’s hips, taking some weight of off Jaemin’s hands.

“I’ve got you, Jaemin. Just say the word and I can help you slowly get to the ground. It’s not that much further to go.”

Jaemin is gripping the ledge of the pool like his life depends on it, but hums in response to Jeno. It should not be that deep. It’s not that deep, with Jeno’s hair still perfectly dry. Still, when Jeno slowly lets him descend, Jaemin’s heartbeat picks up. Where freefalling would make you afraid of any ground you might hit, this is a fall where you’re scared the floor might never come. Water touches his stomach, his arms becoming slack for not being able to hold him up at this angle. Jaemin doesn’t know what to focus on, for looking at the water will only make him feel worse. All else is — is Jeno. Jeno, looking at him without judgement, anchoring him with hands on his hips. He focuses on that, water turning human touch into something foreign, droplets running over Jeno’s chest until—

Until there’s a solid, solid floor, and he’s no longer floating in between.

He closes his eyes, breathes, regrips the edge of the pool. Jeno doesn’t let him go, is smiling when he opens his eyes again.

“You’re doing great, Jaemin.” Jaemin supresses a self-deprecating snort. It ends up a smile, which Jeno will not be able to pinpoint as shaky (yet). Jaemin shifts around on his feet, tentatively resettling them.

“It’s nothing much so far.” Jaemin says, with as much cockiness as he can muster.

“Give me your hands.”

“No.”

“Wasn’t this nothing much?” Okay, ouch. Jeno is using his lies against him, which might be a valid way to teach him a lesson, but that doesn’t mean Jaemin doesn’t feel disgruntled. That saying, his hands and feet are still what’s grounding him right now. Even if Jeno’s still holding him, he doesn’t want to let go of his way out.

“One hand, Jaemin. You can let go one hand from the edge.” Jeno says, snark gone. He’s holding out his left hand, patiently. God, he has to do this, hasn’t he?

On the mental count of three, he lets go and immediately grips onto Jeno’s hand, a bit too hard to keep up any sort of façade. Jeno doesn’t tease him with it, just grips back sturdily, offering it as a pillar of strength, literally and figuratively.

“One more, Jaemin. Then you’re done for the day.” God, Jeno makes it sound so easy. As if letting go from the side isn’t losing his main lifeline, isn’t like jumping in once again. His grip tightens on the ledge, tightens on Jeno’s hand. Jeno slides over, puts his hand over Jaemin’s.

“I’m here. You’re standing. Nothing can happen, I promise.” Jaemin nods, avoiding Jeno’s eyes and the water, choosing to stare at Jeno’s chest instead. It rises and sinks slowly. Where the water only agitates Jaemin, Jeno’s breathing has slowed, like he’s finally at peace. Jaemin tries to match his breathing with Jeno’s, and untightens his grip on the ledge. Lets Jeno’s hand slowly lock into his, lets him pull him away, a step from the edge of the pool. Breathes in, out, as the water laps against his skin, truly standing in the water now. In, out, as Jeno turns him around to walk back to the edge. In, out, as he encourages Jaemin to grip the ledge again and pull himself up. In, out, as Jeno grabs Jaemin’s towel and wraps it around his shoulders.

In, out of the water, though that has proven to _not_ be as easy as breathing.

“I’m really proud of you.” Jeno says, not unlike a coach. Jaemin cringes at the idea, another coach needed to help him out. He pulls a shirt over his head.

“I’m going to buy you McDonald’s now,” Jaemin says. Something he could _not_ say to a coach. He hopes Jeno understands that.

* * *

McDonalds is nice.

Not the food, God no. There’s not much open this late, Jaemin would never voluntarily set foot in this “restaurant”, smelling vaguely of uncleaned bathrooms and too-high cholesterol levels. Now with an added bonus of chlorine. They order a burger, share fries, sip on a vanilla milkshake (Jeno) and an iced coffee (Jaemin) in a booth on the second floor. There alone now, ever since the two very drunk girls took their third friend outside. Poor guy did not seem like he was going to keep the contents of his stomach inside of it. Now Jaemin’s perfectly free to lean his head against the wall and study Jeno’s face in peace as he bites into his burger. Dark eyes, dark hair, nice skin shining with moisturizer (“Chlorine,” Jeno had explained, as he sorted through the 3 bottles of moisturizer in his bag when they were changing). He’s wearing a simple black hoodie now, not caring to look the part of a star athlete. That is not the aura you want to exert in a McDonalds, so he’s perfectly dressed to the occasion. Jaemin feels overdressed in his blazer, not quite fitting in with the crowd, but he guesses he’s doing all kind of things that make him uncomfortable today.

Jaemin doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to see Jeno like this yet, as they’re barely more than acquaintances. He doesn’t really know Jeno, after one hangout with mutual friends and one training session. It’s like catching someone with their hair down, worse because that someone is a world star athlete. Jaemin likes to conveniently ignore that he has a similar status.

Still, he’s glad. Jeno’s interesting, and not just like a shiny new toy (Jaemin has a tendency to like those, though. Every person’s a small mystery, only more interesting if they happen to be attractive. Jaemin does not understand why his friends consider him to be shallow and/or slutty). There’s the part about being an athlete while also pursuing a degree in maths, but there’s also the part that’s teaching swimming to a guy you’ve met once. The family picture he has as his lock screen (two moms), the one-eyed cat that nearly escaped outside when Jaemin picked Jeno up at this apartment. Adopted, Jeno had said, before ushering her off to his roommates.

Jeno’s a caring person, and he should not have time nor energy to care. Jeno’s heart is soft, while his day to day life should not allow him to be. Jeno’s not what he should (could) be, and that makes him interesting.

He doesn’t say any of that yet, though. He might see Jeno in an exposed light, as if they’re close friends, but that doesn’t mean he has any right to. Right now, they’re barely more than strangers.

“Hey, are you planning to finish your degree in 3 years?”

* * *

Floating is an exercise of letting go.

It’s the next step, now that Jaemin can walk around the pool by himself. He does not want to talk about how many sessions it took to get there, how he still can’t jump into the pool. He’s once again standing close to the edge, though not close enough to grip. Jeno said he’s going to need space for this exercise.

“As long as there’s air in your lungs, Jaemin, nothing can happen. Your body naturally floats; just make sure to breathe.” Jaemin nods, splashes at the water surface. They’ve been over this, watched videos, Jeno has been an example, floating perfectly still in the water. It’s unfair to learn something from someone that’s literally a master in the art instead of just some regular guy. Jaemin knows he’ll never get up to Jeno’s level, so it’s a bit hard to even try

Still, he’s here, stuck with Jeno, the only loser that will invest so much time in seeing Jaemin float.

“Okay, so you’re going to crouch slightly down and then lean back for me, so that I can support you. It’s like I’ll be carrying you, but then you’re going to float. Can’t do that on land.”

“Would’ve made this whole learning to swim thing easier.”

“Life is never easy, Jaemin.” Jeno says, voice not unlike one he would use if speaking to a child. Jaemin will kick his ass at a later time. For now, he just splashes water towards Jeno, making him laugh.

(Jeno has a nice laugh.)

“I kinda deserved that. But come on, jump into my arms now, please.” Jaemin resists the urge to splash at him again, but takes a deep breath and lowers himself further into the water. He’s been having a good day so far, not feeling too anxious. That does not mean he’s looking forward to getting his feet of the ground. Too bad jogging in water is not the usual mode of transport in these conditions. He closes his eyes, takes a moment to collect himself and not thinking about what’s to come. Then he leans back, feeling like he’s taking a trust fall. Maybe this is the Disney villain moment where Jaemin learns that adopting cats and offering swimming lessons to strangers do not necessarily mean you’re a good person. God, has the competition hired him to get rid of Jaemin in an unfortunate drowning accident?

His freak-out is brief, as Jeno’s arm wraps under his back.

“I’ve got you. Feet up now, please.” Jeno says, smile and eyes set to ‘comforting’.

“Jeno, I’m going to be honest with you; you’re not going to get me to voluntarily take my feet of this floor.” Jeno shifts his arm. “Ugh. Even if you’re making my back bend at an uncomfortable angle.”

“Jaemin, do you trust me?” Considering Jaemin was just thinking about the possibility of Jeno being a Disney villain, he doesn’t think that ‘yes’ would be perfectly truthful.

“As close as you can get for someone you’ve met like, 5 times at most.” Jeno snorts.

“Alright. Well, don’t freak out.” Jeno says, which is about the least comforting thing you can say to someone that could literally die in the current situation.

Jaemin lets out a squeal, wrapping his arms around Jeno’s neck as Jeno lifts him of the floor.

“Uhm.”

“I’ve helped you out with the getting off the floor part.”

“That you did.” Jaemin’s back is at a better angle now, and he’s really trying his best not to freak out. He tightens his grip around Jeno’s neck, though it’s easier to stay up in the water than on land. Jeno’s not going to drop him, but still. Water. Scary.

“Jaemin, I’ve got you. You can let go of me.” Jaemin nods, very lightly loosening up. This is all Jeno’s going to get out of him. “Okay, now, remember the thing about air in your lungs? Breathe in.”

Jaemin does. Surprisingly, he feels his back lift up, away from Jeno’s arm, not needing support anymore.

“What the fuck.” Jaemin says, voice sounding particularly nasal.

“You’re floating.”

“What the fuckkk.” Jaemin deflates slightly, but still remains afloat in the water, a few inches above Jeno’s arm.

“Okay, try to stretch out your legs. Get them so they’re not drooping so much.” Jeno’s still slightly supporting his legs and this sounds like a bad idea but Jeno’s last advice worked out so he might as well? Here goes nothing, and all.

And then Jeno does a small step back and Jaemin’s floating.

Nothing supporting him except water.

Four, five seconds pass, Jaemin stretching himself out, before Jeno comes up and helps him get to his feet again.

“Wow.” Jaemin says, very eloquently.

“You might not be a hopeless case after all.” Jaemin smacks Jeno’s arm, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. He’s a bit caught up on the sensation; weightlessness. Nothing supporting you except water, and that being enough. Maybe that’s why Jeno likes swimming so much, feeling burdenless for even just a bit.

If Jeno’s shocked by the fact that Jaemin tightly hugs him goodbye that night instead of just waving, he doesn’t show it.

* * *

Jeno’s been showing him swimming videos lately, over their post-training McDonalds sessions; on some days, it’s competitions, sometimes of himself if he isn’t feeling too shy. It’s like watching the mechanisms of a clock, how Jeno’s muscles slot together and he glides through the water; smooth and elegant, but always powerful. Jaemin’s had his fair share of strength training, but his back will never look like _that_.

He likes to pretend it’s just a professional interest, but Jaemin’s also just thirsty. He is but a weak bisexual, and Jeno is very ripped. This is just the way things are. And, as much as the videos of professional swimmers are nice, they’re not very helpful in his learning process. Most of the time, Jeno makes him search ‘learn how to swim’ in YouTube, and Jaemin feels like it’s just a test to see how patronized he can get Jaemin to feel.

“It is preferred that a person learns to swim as a child since it is easier for a child to learn new skills. However, if this is not the case, then as an adult, you might have a harder time learning and feeling the water.” Jeno side eyes him, and as he isn’t exactly subtle, Jaemin pauses the video to look him in the eyes.

“Yes?”

“…nothing.” This is what he means. Patronizing. But as Jeno turns to unpause the video, Jaemin does not think about how nice it is to look Jeno in the eyes, does not think about his friends teasing him for continuously talking about with Jeno, does not think about Jeno.

* * *

This time, it’s daytime when Jeno and Jaemin meet; both of them only have their trainings scheduled later in the day, and Jeno’s classes were cancelled for the morning.

It leaves them both standing over a sink in Jaemin’s room (“It’s good to be in a familiar environment,” Jeno had said), filled to the near brim with lukewarm water. Jaemin’s staring himself down in the mirror, Jeno’s avoiding looking at the mirror. A small offer of privacy, perhaps, so that Jaemin can break down and build himself up again. Jaemin vaguely feels like he’s in a fantasy novel, about to dive into a portal into another world. You know, not just panicking over submerging his face into water for 30 seconds. He lets his fingers drag across the water, disrupting the smooth surface.

“It’ll help you overcome your fear of water,” Jeno says, placing a hand on Jaemin’s shoulder, his fingertip just touching the bare skin of Jaemin’s throat. “We’re going to start small, just here.”

Jaemin knows, knows all of this, has been going over this with Jeno for days just to end up here at 10am on a Tuesday. Knows he has to force himself to bend over, dip his face in, not allow himself to breathe.

“Jeno,” Jaemin says, Jeno’s thumb making small circles at the back of his neck. “How does this come easily to you?”

“Swimming?”

“Drowning.”

“Oh.” Jeno says, smiles. “How does ice skating come easily to you, speeding through the curve of the rink, without being afraid that you’ll slip and fall?” Jaemin imagines it, gliding over the ice. It’s always so smooth; he just doesn’t _slip_ anymore. The ice could never slip away under him, not after so many hours spent on that very surface. He’s practiced too much for that.

“I’m in control when ice skating.”

“And I’m not while swimming; it’s just a give and take. The water is not steady, and it won’t remain in the same place, even if I’m not around. I can just trust my own abilities, though. There’s no reason to believe I’ll get hurt.”

“So, you’re saying I have to trust?” Jaemin’s quite sure his grin could be described as “shit-eating”.

“You chose the most cliché way off phrasing it, but sure. Trust the water, but mostly just yourself, Jaemin,” Jeno bumps his hips into Jaemin’s. “Get on with it now, please, or I’ll puke from general cheesiness.”

“As if cheesiness isn’t the foundation of this very friendship,” Jaemin lets out, in a laugh. He regrips the bathroom sink though, Jeno’s hand slipping from is neck to his lower back. Jaemin knows Jeno’s being careful, making sure that Jaemin won’t feel like there’s anything going to stop him from coming out of the water. Jaemin bends over, face inches away from the water surface.

“Well, here goes everything,” he mumbles, before submerging his face.

The first few seconds are fine. He can hear Jeno count, grounding him with the hand on his back. Rubbing small circles. It’s fine, a bit weird, not much more than washing his face, except prolonged. He grips the sides of the sink tighter, knows he can do this and not give up. Thirty seconds is perfectly doable, and he is a star athlete. What _can’t_ he do. He will not give up, even as he feels his arms begin to shake from how hard he’s gripping the sink. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, Jeno says, though his voice is fading, because there _is water in his face and against his mouth and in his nose and he cannot breathe._ Holding his breath is different from this, being out of breath is different from this, _why did he ever agree to this_. This is what it means to be uncomfortable, scared, _having a panic attack_. He does not let up on his grip of the sink, holds himself down. He has to get through this, for God’s sake, as he begins to breathe out, bubbles coming up and his lungs are constricting and he’s—

Drowning?

Jeno forcibly drags him upright. Drags him to the closed toilet bowl, sets him down, kneels down in front of him while Jaemin folds up. Puts his head on his knees, wraps his arms around his head, tries not to shake. Fails.

God, why is he such an idiot? Why can’t he put his face in some water without freaking out? He breathes, raggedly, not sure if he still can.

“Hey.” Jeno says, placing his hand over Jaemin’s. “You’re alright. Breathe with me.” Jaemin tries, tries to keep his breathing from speeding up again, tries to not make them sound like sobs. Tries to not freak out over the constricting of his lungs, of not being able to breathe, of getting stuck. It’s just the adrenaline, he knows, better than anyone, nothing could’ve happened but _what the fuck, Na_ Jaemin. This is not how you won World Junior Short Track. He can, and should, do better than this. Be better than this.

“Hey.” Jeno pulls at his arms, makes space so that he can hold Jaemin’s face in both hands. If Jeno sees streaks running down his face, he won’t be able to tell if it’s water or tears. “Do not beat yourself up over this, do you hear me? And never, ever, push yourself past your own limits again. It’s not a question of being faster here, Jaemin. This is learning to be comfortable with the water. _Do not_ make it into a competition for yourself.”

Jaemin nods, wipes his eyes dry.

“It’s not your fault. I freaked out. I’m fine again. I’ll be fine next time.” Jeno looks him in the eye, looking particularly pissed off.

“You are not going to practice on your own, Jaemin.” Okay, fuck. He should’ve known that Jeno knows him too well by now. He stands up, shaky legs. Jeno pulls him in for a tight hug, lets Jaemin linger and press his face in Jeno’s shoulder.

“You’ll get there, Jaemin.” Jeno whispers into his hair, strokes his back. “Learning is never an easy process.”

* * *

It’s been another night of Jaemin slowly wading in the water, after Jeno thoroughly asked if he was okay, if he was sure he wanted to try again today, if he didn’t need some more time to regain his confidence. As much as a younger Jaemin might’ve wanted to chicken out, Jaemin now knows that he has to get back or he’ll never swim again. He doesn’t dare jump in, doesn’t dare put his face in the water, only wetting his face at Jeno’s insistence.

It’s clear that Jeno’s concerned about him, with how much closer he hovers today compared to other days. He lets Jaemin float on his back, praises him more than other days. He doesn’t suggest that Jaemin goes under water, doesn’t show how he can also float on his stomach. He _has_ been making progress, these past few weeks. Jeno’s talking about it to him, even though Jaemin still doesn’t dare take his feet of the floor of the pool if the ledge (or Jeno- they’ve somehow become synonymous these past few weeks) is not within reaching distance. He’s floating so much today that he knows what the ugly pool ceiling looks like with his eyes closed, and he’s starting to see the appeal of a lake. He isn’t even ready for an open-air pool yet, though, or anything else that’s filled with more than just water, him, and Jeno, to be honest.

He’s not sure how to continue now, knowing full well that he has to learn to hold his breath in water if he wants to learn to swim. Even if the thought currently makes Jaemin’s stomach turn.

“Jeno?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you get over your fears?” He sees Jeno stiffen in his peripheral vision. They have sturdily been becoming friends, texting about random non-swimming related things even between lessons. Though, it has always remained superficial. He knows there is more to Jeno, knows that there have been things in his past that he won’t tell just anyone about. Knows there is at least some fucked-up youth memory, despite which he has still turned out so very, very kind.

“You don’t really, I think.” Jeno says, having turned away from Jaemin. “It’s more about not allowing them to exist, nothing thinking about what you fear. And then somehow, someday, realizing that you don’t think about what you fear anymore. That the fear’s also gone, and there’s just indifference.”

“Is there indifference for you yet?”

“…Yes.”

“Why can’t you look me in the eye then?” Jaemin waits for Jeno to answer, but he doesn’t. He feels mean, to call Jeno out like this. But as much as Jaemin is trying to get over this fear, he feels like Jeno also has some things of his own to work through. And he’s not going to get over them if he follows his own advice.

But today is not the day for fear-solving. Jaemin climbs out of the pool, throws Jeno his towel when he comes after him. It’s all a gradual process.

* * *

It ends, as always, at a McDonalds, Jaemin now having to be talked out of ordering an iced coffee at 12am and Jeno ordering grotesque amounts of food. Jaemin complains about the bill, but pays every time. They don’t bring up their conversation in the pool again, and Jaemin is somewhat grateful. Jeno is not ready to share that part yet, so he’s glad that they’re able to switch back to easier banter. The McDonalds is particularly crowded tonight, so they make a slight change in the status quo and get the food to-go. They end up at Jeno’s dorm bed with the food splayed out between them, laptop set up. They alternate between watching animated swimming boys (“Technically it’s educational, you know” was Jeno’s explanation) and one show with animated figure skaters (“I deserve a pick too,” was Jaemin’s claim). Jaemin doesn’t _really_ care about what they’re watching, mostly involved with subtly stealing Jeno’s last few fries and keeping himself awake. It would be really awkward to fall asleep in Jeno’s bed, even more as his manager will meet him at his own place in the morning. Bit of a weird move to join his manager at the door to his own room, is all.

It’s not that Jaemin doesn’t want to stay awake in Jeno’s company; it’s more that swimming is really taking a toll on him. It’s in part physical, using muscles he doesn’t normally use, on top of his regular training routine, but mostly just emotional. He hasn’t been afraid for so long; rarely ever so primitive, so tense in the face of danger. It’s been getting better, with the semi-forced exposure therapy and a growing capability to not drown, but it’s not exactly rational. Jaemin wouldn’t call it a phobia, more the general fear of losing control.

Jaemin has always been in control.

Another part that’s not exactly helping with staying awake is Jeno slowly creeping closer to him, making Jaemin very comfortably warm. Jeno’s now resting against his chest, Jaemin slowly having resigned to put an arm around him. Jeno smells like chlorine and coconut oil, applied generously in desperate attempts for his skin and hair to retain any oil. It’s everywhere in the room, in part caused by the splayed-out swimming trunks left to dry, but mostly just by Jeno. It’s overwhelming, making Jaemin’s heart speed up. He can’t tell if it’s the fear conditioning of the pool or just Jeno snuggling into his chest, tangling himself with Jaemin.

And Jeno’s probably just a cuddly person, especially late at night, touch starved as any athlete without the time to date someone. He’s probably this nice to everyone, didn’t expect that teaching Jaemin to swim, asked over drinks with mutual friends, would be such a long-term project, something he’d go through with. Like any athlete, he doesn’t know how to quit something once he’s started, leaving him stuck with Jaemin for some more time.

But Jaemin does not have the energy to deny that he likes being close to Jeno. Knows he feels something right now he’ll dismiss in the morning. But at 2am, in this room, he allows himself to drag Jeno closer and bury his nose in his hair.

* * *

Jeno’s afraid of his dad, Jaemin finds out, as Jeno tenses when Jaemin tells him that he went out for lunch with his own dad today. Jeno’s not indifferent about it, just yet.

Jeno’s not straight, Jaemin finds out, when Jaemin tells him an anecdote about is ex, and Jeno asks ‘why did you and him- I mean her, break up?’ and Jaemin responds with a ‘He and I just didn’t fit together romantically.’ Jeno comes out, too, when Jaemin drops him off at his room.

Jaemin’s still afraid of drowning, but washing in his face in the morning takes longer now that he also submerges his face in water for ten seconds. Jeno does not find out.

He floats on his stomach the next lesson, face in the water. Jeno does not ask, just gives him tips on his form. It’s okay like that.

* * *

“Hey, has anyone ever swum a match with a hickey?” Jaemin asks, one night, when his muscles are not quite burning yet and Jeno joins him at the seats next to the pool. “I mean, it’s not like you can cover them up, right?”

“I feel like the coach wouldn’t approve of anyone indulging in any hickey-getting activities the night before a match,” Jeno says, not indulging Jaemin quite yet.

“I mean, they take some time to vanish, don’t they? A pre-pre-match… relaxing session would not be particularly ill-advised, no?”

“…Waterproof concealer.”

“Wow. The make-up industry has become so advanced these days, huh?” Jaemin’s looking at Jeno’s throat now, spotless and expansive. This conversation topic was maybe not the best choice for the whole hiding any attraction to Jeno agenda. It’s not something he can easily hide lately, after the night in at Jeno’s. After realizing that he was looking forward to seeing Jeno again a bit too much. Sadly, Jaemin has a habit of thinking too late.

“Yeah.” Jeno says, Jaemin glancing up, meeting his eyes. A lull. No sounds but the quiet lapping of the water.

Jaemin is not blind. Jeno is hot. Very hot, if you will. It’s more than just the physical part, too. Yes, all his athlete friends are in peak physical condition. Yes, Jeno’s skin has been suffering under spending several hours per day in chloroform. It doesn’t matter though lately, when Jaemin’s slowly been realizing that he’d lay his life down for Jeno’s smile. He’s sure Jeno might take that life, when Jeno puts on his swimming goggles, slipping his smile off at the same time, pure focus radiating off him. When he shows Jaemin how it’s done, with long strokes, pushing water aside as if he’s a part of it, belonging. Not at all like Jaemin, who feels like every stroke is a desperate attempt against drowning, being dragged under instead of floating over.

Maybe it’s these eyes that he likes most, dark as the depth of the ocean, mysterious. Dangerous yet offering freedom, which is also what hanging out with Jeno has been feeling like. Paradoxical, yet real.

It’s not something he can justify towards his coach, to be distracted as a star athlete. It’s definitely not his place, to distract a star athlete.

And yet he can’t help wanting to drown.

He scrapes his throat, before he does something dumb. He might not have thought this conversation topic through, but he’s perfectly capable of thinking about his actions. Especially if it’s as big as leaning into Jeno, or even just wiping the wet hair from his eyes.

Jaemin does what he does best: saves a friendship, sits up straighter, smiles.

“Can we go over backstroke again?” He says, already walking over to the ladder. He doesn’t watch Jeno’s face, just waits for the sound of him jumping in to turn around.

Swimming might be scary, but not as terrifying as Jeno.

* * *

It’s fall.

Jeno’s season is over; of smiles and sweat and squealing children at the pool’s slide. Light blue swim shorts, melting red-orange-yellow popsicles and a pinkish tint on the neighbour’s boy’s cheeks. Cheeks you’d want to kiss, if you weren’t training every day. If your coach, and you even more, didn’t know that this was the perfect time to train outside, swim in the ocean for as long as it was bearable, endurance training. Summer’s Jeno’s season, but summers were never Jeno’s.

Technically, Jaemin’s the summer baby to Jeno’s spring, but everyone who knows him, knows that he’s winter through and through. Hot chocolate, cinnamon-brown hair, clicking of ice skates. Always, always ice skating. It’s finally as cold outside as it is in the rink, and he visits the frozen-over pond near his house, when the rink is closed. Before he comes home drenched and his mother makes him promise to never, ever do that again. What if he drowned, after dark too, she says, as Jaemin’s lips remain blue and his eyes turn cold. Winter’s Jaemin’s season, and he made it his.

It feels ironic, to have them come together in fall, after Jeno’s time and before Jaemin’s reign. Before Jaemin’s heart is completely frozen through, when Jeno doesn’t quite need someone to warm him up again. When Jaemin is no longer desperate to just cool down with ice cream after outside endurance training, after Jeno’s has been burned at two ends for just a bit too long. It’s common ground, a ceasefire. They’re stuck with rusted-like trees unfamiliar to them both, a lake useless for them both.

Maybe this is the time where a water wrinkled Jaemin and a knitted sweater wearing Jeno can come together. It should be impossible, all of it, except maybe at 2am in an orange-shrubbed McDonalds.

Impossibilities are what Jaemin’s thinking about, when he looks at Jeno. When he thinks about the end of October coming up, preliminaries, passing his last final before it’s full-time training. When he thinks about the Olympics next year.

He does not think about feelings, or not swimming, or about the lies they’re telling themselves.

If their goodbye hug lingers a bit too long that night, Jaemin doesn’t think about it.

* * *

It happens when Jaemin is not thinking about it.

Jeno’s gotten him to dive for a full 20 seconds, even if it’s just under the surface of the water, Jeno next to him every step of the way. Jaemin comes up, turns to look at Jeno, who does a thumbs up.

“You made it up to 20 seconds!” Jeno says, giddy. “If I was allowed to, I’d give you your swimming diploma by now. I think you can officially swim. Congratulations, Jaemin.”

“God, I thought I’d never even be able to stand in this fucking pool.” Jaemin still remembers the raw fear he felt, but right now he is mostly just —not to brag— so fucking proud of himself. He smiles at Jeno, honestly.

“Of course you can.” Jeno says, drawing closer to him. “You could do anything if you’d set your mind to it.”

“God, and you’re saying that?” Jeno wrinkles his nose in response. “You literally taught me how to swim. While studying and having your own training. I think you’re the real star here, Mr. Perfect.” There’s no fire behind his words, despite how sarcastic they might sound. Jeno is the one that got him here.

“But I guess we’re both pretty great.” Jaemin ends up adding, smirking. Jeno laughs, shakes his head and then looks at him. Really, really looks, and Jaemin’s feeling a bit awkward under the scrutiny, can feel his cheeks starting to heat up. Jeno has this intense way about him sometimes, when he isn’t smiling. It happens when he gets too caught up in a video of his competitors, or when he’s trying to finish up his lesson plan before their trainings. It’s never been directed directly at him, Jeno looking right through him. He feels like Jeno can see anything he’s hiding from him and it will be used against him. Has Jeno figured him out? Was his last comment too flirty, the last piece of the puzzle slotting together in Jeno’s mind?

He gets his answer when Jeno steps even closer to him, cups his face in his hands and delicately presses his lips to Jaemin’s.

Oh.

Jeno steps away. Jaemin’s not sure if he just imagined the past three seconds.

“I really, really had to get that out of my system. Sorry. At least you can swim now, so you never have to see me again.”

“God— Jeno, you fucking—.” Jaemin manages to get out, before he places a hand at the back of Jeno’s head and draws him in. Kisses him more intensely than Jeno just did, nips at Jeno’s bottom lip, opens his mouth to let Jeno slide his tongue in. Jeno’s lips taste of chlorine, water’s being pressed to the sides so that Jaemin can press him closer to Jeno. It’s the pool, it’s swimming, it’s _Jeno._

“How long?” Jaemin says, in between kisses.

“How long what?” Jeno says, turning his head to kiss down Jaemin’s neck.

“How long have you wanted to kiss me?”

“Sink.” A shiver goes down Jaemin’s back, and he’s not sure it’s just because of how Jeno’s pulling at his hair. “You?”

“God, probably since I first saw you. Took me some time to admit it to myself, though.” Jeno laughs into the crook of his neck, before making Jaemin yelp as he lifts him up. Jaemin lets himself be carried, tightens his hold on Jeno as he gets pressed up against the side of the pool. Draws Jeno in tighter, too. Jeno’s a ferocious kisser, a sort of desperation to it. Jeno’s thinking about winter, is thinking about the Olympics, is thinking about everything they haven’t talked about yet.

“Jeno. You can take your time.” Jaemin whispers, as he pulls back to cradle Jeno’s cheek. Jaemin will not allow himself to think about any of that. They’ve still got their season, _their_ fall. They will figure it out. Jeno looks surprised for a second, before kissing Jaemin again, more softly this time. Jaemin lets himself wallow in the feeling of being kissed, allows himself to finally explore Jeno’s skin. He drags his hands over Jeno’s back and biceps, letting out appreciative noises. Jeno laughs.

“You’re not doing too badly yourself either,” Jeno says, as he slides his hands over Jaemin’s thighs and ass.

“We should’ve done this ages ago,” Jaemin says, as he drawls out a groan from Jeno by sucking at his throat. “I’d be much more motivated for swimming lessons if I knew I got to make out with you afterwards.”

“Even more motivation than you already had?”

“It’s all about the idea.” Jaemin says, before he untightens himself from Jeno’s grip and lifts himself up to sit on the ledge of the pool. Looks down at Jeno, dark eyes, dark hair, kiss-swollen lips, God, Jaemin’s going to remember this sight forever.

“Want to come back to my place? I’ll make you proper dinner.”

“I was kind of getting attached to our McDonalds meals,” Jeno says, “I think my body’s become accustomed to the shitty meals.”

“Jeno, please shut up and get out of the pool.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?” Jaemin rolls his eyes and moves to walk away.

“Wait! I won’t talk about my love for McDonalds anymore, now please help me out.”

Jaemin pretends to hesitate, but ends up reaching out a hand. Jeno grabs it, smiling, before dragging Jaemin back into the pool with a splash.

Thank God the only thing Jaemin’s drowning in now is Jeno.

**Author's Note:**

> Most unrealistic part of this fic is two acquaintances being like “ah you’re a professional swimmer? Ah you should teach me how to swim sometime” and actually going through with it. Men of their word.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
